


Hay Moon

by OneforAll



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneforAll/pseuds/OneforAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short interlude that follows on from The Return.  It is a prequel to the first timer that will be based on Through A Glass Darkly which will follow in due course.  As long as I stop getting new ideas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I uploaded and watched The Return last week. Honestly, it was for research, to check a few things for the other story I am working on around the fall of Rochefort, not just to lust at Athos in THAT shirt! And this story started knocking on my door and asked to be written

It had been Athos's intention to make his way straight back to the campsite. He'd taken a little trip to relief himself while the evening meal was heating. The sounds of his brothers' chatter and laughter drifted over from the next clearing on the soft summer breeze, along with the enticing aroma of food. However, he had spotted a fallen log that made an ideal seat and next thing he knew, he had found himself lowering down onto it, unable to resist the opportunity for a few moments privacy. With the battle for Pinon, then preparations to leave, the only time he had had to himself was when writing out the documents he needed to sort affairs for the villagers. No time to really absorb what had happened.  
They were only about 30 miles or so from Pinon. Even though they'd known they would have to camp out, it had been worth it to get some of the distance to Paris out of the way, and would make for an easier journey tomorrow. And no real hardship to be outside on such a lovely summer night. They were still within the department of Picardy and there were certain scents in the air and flora and fauna in the forests around them that were well known to Athos. Familiar sensations seeping in through his skin that said...home.  
Or what had once been home. He exhaled slowly. Although he was safely on his way back to Paris, surrounded by the people he now regarded as family, it was as though part of his mind was still back in the moment he had been jolted awake. Although well practiced as a soldier in not allowing fear to rule him, it had still been daunting to find himself disorientated, nauseous and confined, with not a clue to his whereabouts or the identity of his captors. That was followed by the shock of realising he was back in the place he'd fled from six years ago, and all the memories that came with it. Going back to the home that had once been destined to be his for life. Then the inevitable flashbacks to the most traumatic events he'd ever experienced, The murder of his brother. The shock of discovering the woman he had married was not who he'd thought she was. Then the terrible, unavoidable task of meting out justice for Thomas. The act that had torn him to pieces... 

He felt his heart thudding faster. For a moment he was back in that instance of harsh awakening, feeling adrift and helpless. He felt fine beads of sweat break out on his forehead and lowered his head into his hands, trying to steady his breathing. He became aware of a presence nearby, even before Aramis's soft voice reached him. 

"Athos?" Are you alright?" 

Athos looked up to see his fellow musketeer standing a few feet away at the entrance to the clearing. The mere sight of him was enough to make Athos feel a little better. 

"I--I'm fine," he said after a moment, pulling himself up straighter. "Just...taking a few moments." 

"Don't blame you," Aramis said, with a sympathetic quirk of his lips. "It's been a strange couple of days. Just came to say it looks like we'll be ready to eat soon. Do you want me to give you a bit of space?" 

Athos realised the distraction of company would be very welcome right now. In fact distraction did a great disservice to Aramis, he thought apologetically as he shook his head and with a slight smile, moved along the log to make room for his friend. The air was warm and Aramis had taken off his leather doublet and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his lawn shirt. Bright moonlight streamed down, casting planes and shadows over the fine features, which Athos had always privately felt deserved to be captured by a master painter or sculptor. The dark eyes were fixed on him, looking large with warmth and concern. Such moments were precious, and meant to be savoured, not squandered. One of Athos's few guilty pleasures. And after the Savoy massacre, who knew more than Aramis about the feelings that persisted in the wake of traumatic episodes?" 

"Were you checking I hadn't disappeared again?" Athos said lightly, trying to shrug off some of the darkness that had threatened to roll over him. 

"Not taking any chances." Aramis tried to match the levity as he sat down in the space next to Athos and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It wasn't a good feeling, finding you suddenly gone like that, without a clue to where you were. It's not an experience any of us want to repeat in a hurry." 

Although he'd tried to keep his tone light the slight tremor in his hand betrayed him. 

"Nor me, I can assure you," Athos said sincerely. He knew how he'd have felt if their positions were reversed. Such things were the stuff of nightmares for a group of people so closely knit as they were. They exchanged a little look, acknowledging the mutuality of the feeling. 

Aramis kept his hand in place a little longer than he needed to, requiring the physical affirmation that Athos really was safely back with them. The crisis might be over but he knew from bitter experience that that the feeling of anxiety and distress didn't always fade away once the experience was over. He expected the clawing fear that had eaten away at his insides as they searched in vain for Athos to stay with him for some time. It had increased in ferocity, gnawing at him like some ravening beast as time and time again they came up with no answers. It had stilled a little when they broke into Athos's lodgings and found a clue and then been able to take some positive action. But even seeing him again in the village square, hands bound and looking dazed wasn't exactly reassuring. Veterans of dangerous situations they may be, but the experience had shaken the whole group and he could see that Athos was not quite over the shock of it either, despite his attempts to keep up his usual cool front.  
To Aramis's eyes there was a vulnerability in seeing him sitting here alone, without the props of uniform that made him Athos the musketeer. His hair was more tousled than usual, making Aramis want to brush it away from his face and get a better view of those beautiful eyes and handsome features. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to reach over and take Athos into his arms, kiss him, tell him no-one would ever take him away like that again. And for what felt like the thousandth time, stilled the impulse, confining himself to increasing the pressure on his friend's shoulder and giving him a warm smile. Staying, as usual, safely within the boundaries of friendship and brotherhood. 

"That stew Jeanne sent with us smells good, doesn’t it?" 

"It certainly does," Athos replied, enjoying the feel of the other's proximity. "Her mother was as a very good cook, famed throughout the district. My mama once tried to employ her at the house but she was already engaged to Bertrand and turned down the offer. Bertrand told me that sadly they lost her about three years ago. She has obviously passed both her spirit and her skills on to Jeanne. Who's in charge of heating the stew?" 

"The Captain," Aramis told him, dead pan. 

"Oh good Lord!" Athos exclaimed, unable to hold back a short laugh "How long is it since Treville did any campfire cooking?" 

"Probably longer than we've been in the regiment!" Aramis gave an amused snort. "He sort of appointed himself to do it. At least all he has to do is heat it through, so it should be fairly safe. Don't get me wrong, none of us wanted the events of the past few days to happen, but I think in a strange way, Treville's kind of enjoyed the whole being back in action thing: even the road trip and being an ordinary soldier." 

"Well, we know of course, that he'll never be that. Yes,maybe it's made him feel like he has a purpose," Athos agreed. "He hasn't had too much of that lately." He shook his head ruefully. "He should still be Captain!" The night air still felt quite warm and Athos made to push up his shirt sleeves little. His fingers brushed over his wrist and he was unable to stop himself flinching slightly; the rope burns from yesterday were still smarting a little.  
Aramis of course immediately noticed the twinge in the muscle in his friend's cheek. He grasped Athos's fingers, pushing the shirt further up his forearm and lifted one hand, then the other up so he could get a better look at his wrists. 

"These still look a bit raw," he commented, frowning, then gave Athos a castigating look. "Why didn't you come to me?" 

Athos's mouth quirked slightly. "We had other priorities, if you remember, like defending Pinon. it's not so bad now. Catherine give me some salve." 

Aramis felt a surge of what he knew was completely irrational jealousy. Athos's hurts had been tended to by a woman he had known well: well enough, if what the villagers said was true, for their families to have had expectations of marriage, before a certain party had appeared from nowhere and brought havoc upon the fortunes of the la Feres. Catherine's subsequent behaviour had ensured that she was unlikely to have a part in his friend's life again, but still --a woman who had once known Athos well had tended to his hurts. My job, he thought vehemently, knowing there was no logic to yet still unable to stop the hot pulse of envy that surged through his blood. Milady, on the other hand, occupied a whole country in his inner landscape, with lakes of jealousy he did not like to swim in too often as they were too deep for him to plumb. However, long practice enabled him to cover evidence of his feelings and say smoothly, "Well, no disrespect to Catherine but that was yesterday, and I have a new salve mix I've been trying which should take care of this. I've got it with me, Come back and let me see to this." 

He saw the reluctant expression flicker over his friend's features, and realised Athos had maybe had a bellyful of appearing vulnerable in front of other people these past few days. 

"Or--better idea--why don't I bring it here, and we'll tend to it without distracting the Captain and endangering our supper?" 

"The safety of our supper is paramount," Athos said in that wonderfully laconic manner of his. But there was a twinkle in his eye that made the medic grin in return as he climbed to his feet. 

"Stay put; I won't be long." Aramis said, though his gaze couldn't help but hover protectively over Athos. 

"Aramis," the nobleman said with exaggerated patience, "in the short period of your absence, I will endeavour not to be abducted by owls or rabbits. Or woodland sprites; it believe it isn't the season for it And I'm sure that if I meet any marauding badgers, I can give a good account of myself." 

Aramis loved to see Athos exhibit these flashes of dry humour. He chuckled, heading off towards the campsite. "Oh, I'm sure you will, my Lord!" He threw a look over his shoulder just before disappearing between the trees. "My money will not be going on the badgers!" 

Typical of his friend, Athos thought: rarely at a loss for a witty riposte when leaving a scene. The joy of Aramis; always able to bring light even to the darkest and coldest of corners. It was such a place that Athos's soul had become after he left la Fere and embarked on his life as a soldier. Yet somehow Aramis, with his vitality, wit, spirit and charm, then later Porthos with his earthy vigour and equally strong sense of honour and loyalty had found gaps in Athos's defences, crept past them and established bonds of friendship that made him feel that maybe life was worth living, not for merely existing. 

But when Aramis's warmth had penetrated into the colder reachs of Athos's being it had also kindled desire. A dangerous thing, for it could not be acted upon or revealed. With Aramis's very clear preference for women, Athos knew that to delude himself that such feelings would be returned was a fantasy. And a sin. Despite his friend's sensuality and tendency for recklesness, Athos knew that his love for God was genuine. The risk of driving Aramis away, fracturing the bonds of brotherhood that sustained the fabric of Athos's life was too great. So Athos had set guards upon himself. He had locked away those feelings in the same deep, safe place where he decided long ago that he should conceal Olivier de la Fere, allowing only Athos as the facet of himself that he showed to the world. He was very practiced at it and too disciplined to let himself sink into self-pity; in fact considered himself fortunate in what he had--the love and support of the brothers who'd followed him and fought beside him. 

And of course there were still times like this to enjoy. Aramis would be back soon, applying his healing skills in that humorously tender way that was his alone. There were some things beyond price and too precious to risk. 

@@@ @@@@ @@@ @@@@


	2. Chapter 2

Aramis had walked back into the campsite to the sounds of Treville's good-natured complaining as he stirred the meal simmering over the fire. 

"Damn it, D'Artagnan, you don't need to watch over this stew as though you're on sentry duty. I was practising campfire cooking when you were still playing with toy swords!" 

"No disrespect, sir, but I could take over if you like." The Gascon was sitting between Treville and Porthos, trying to bite back a smile. "I have gotten quite good at it recently. I don't burn stuff any more, do I, Porthos?" 

"No, Well not much," the dark man said teasingly. "Of course there were those rabbits Aramis caught on the way to Spain that you cremated when you were talking to Athos. It was quite funny when he chased you round camp three times." Porthos then became aware of Aramis's approach and his tone grew a little more serious. "'Mis--Athos all right?" The other two musketeers also looked at Aramis, concern in their eyes. 

"He will be. I think it's still all sinking in." Aramis went to retrieve his medical bag. "We'll be back soon; I just want to see to those rope burns. Smells good!" he added with a look at the stew and threw d'Artagnan a little wink as he turned to make his way back to Athos. He was aware of the tension still simmering between Porthos and Treville. Close though he was to Porthos, he had judged that it was best to let the two men work out whatever issues they had between them; he knew Athos was of a similar mind. 

The moon had emerged from the clouds had been scudding across its face and its silvery light flooded the clearing. Aramis's eyes ate up the sight of Athos, who he had always felt had a certain innate elegance in repose: an aura of quiescent power that he exuded without effort. You can take the nobleman out of the estate, he thought fondly. But you can't take the nobility out of the man. 

Athos emerged from his reverie. There was a welcoming gleam in his eyes as he became aware of Aramis's return. "Ah, the magic bag!" he remarked with amusement on catching sight of the leather pouch his friend carried; it was how the group humorously referred to Aramis's medical kit. Aramis placed the bag on the fallen log before lowering himself down next to Athos and pulling out his jar of salve. 

"So this is your new mix. I hope it is not as vile smelling as the last one," Athos remarked in the same lightly teasing vein. "Are you experimenting on me?" 

Aramis was always striving to improve the healing properties of his remedies and he was used to a bit of ribbing about it from the group. 

"No. I tried it on that nick I got in practice with d'Artagnan last week. It works!" He opened the jar and waved it under Athos's nose. "I hope this is more in keeping with you noble sensibilities?" 

"Much less noxious," Athos admitted, his eyes twinkling. 

"There's a little less comfrey and a touch more lavender and calendula in this." Aramis spread some salve onto his fingers and extended his other hand towards Athos with a gently commanding look. The other proffered his right hand so Aramis could tend to his wrist. 

"I am going to have to up my game with that protégé of yours. He gets better all the time." The medic began to gently work the salve into the chafe marks. Athos couldn't stop himself wincing slightly. 

"Sorry, it will sting a little but it should start to work pretty quickly once it sinks in." 

"It's fine." Athos was quietly soaking up the touch of those long fingers so gently and carefully over his wrist. One of his private little pleasures when Aramis attended to him in his capacity as healer. "You're right about d'Artagnan. He's progressing well. One day he may surpass us all," he commented, not without a touch of pride. 

"Porthos and I--almost certainly!" Aramis chuckled. "You? Equal--perhaps. Surpass--never!" he continued with his ministrations, making sure the salve was worked in thoroughly. Although he hated to see Athos or any of his friends hurt in any way, it did allow him the opportunity to be close to Athos and care for him like this. "What happened the other night?" he asked gently. "I know it hadn't been a good day, after seeing You-Know-Who parading past us in the gardens with the King. We'd all had a few but you seemed steady enough on your feet when we said goodnight." 

"I had intended to go straight home, but when I was walking along, it started playing on my mind. I was passing the Wren and I went in for one. Which led to another..." 

"And that presumably is when Jeanne was able to slip something into your drink." 

"Both Treville and Porthos have already had a go at me for making it easier for my abductors to perform their task," Athos said wearily. 

"Thought they might," Aramis commented wryly as he released Athos's right wrist ad scooped up some more of the salve in his fingers. "Look, I won't even presume to imagine what it must have been like for you of late, with her installed at the palace. I saw that look she threw you the other day. Given what she's already put you through, I can't say I altogether blame you for wanting to reach a little deeper into a bottle of red." 

"Unfortunately," Athos observed with chagrin as he held up his other hand to Aramis, "the problem still exists when you climb out of the bottle." Aramis began to rub in the salve with the same tender care he'd used on the other wrist. Athos couldn't help but enjoy the warmth in that dark, focused gaze . Almost worth the harsh sting of the rope burns. He cast a look at the medical pouch and asked dryly, "Do you have anything in there for relieving the irritation caused by problematic wives?" 

Aramis gave a little snort and a flash of his beautiful smile. 

"If I had that, mon frere, I'd be a wealthy miracle worker, not as lowly paid musketeer!" He finished rubbing in the salve but kept his hand on Athos's wrist for a moment. "Better?" 

"Yes," Athos admitted, realising the worst of the soreness had started to fade. "Thank you." 

"Minor miracles come as standard," Aramis quipped as he put on the top back on the jar. "It's a fine thing in theory to say you should put the past behind. Not so easy when you see evidence of it strutting round the palace every few days, bold as brass." 

"You have a far greater ability than me, my friend, to move on with your life, live it to the full," Athos commented, a hint of both envy and affection in his voice. 

"I don't know about that. Maybe I have some talent for making it look as though I do. Yes, sometimes I do charge at life full tilt--then wonder why I get caught by the rebound!" Aramis gave a self-deprecating smile as he returned the salve jar into his bag. "No matter how good our intentions for putting our past in its proper perspective, it has a way of catching up with us sometimes." 

Athos knew Aramis carried his share of concealed pain. Over Isabelle and the schism with his family that had diverted him from his original destiny of a life in the church for a career in the army. The dichotomy between priest and solider that still tugged at his soul. Athos knew that other sorrows lurked behind that devil-may-care facade. The massacre of Savoy. The death of Adele Besette. And the most recent and dangerous of secrets. A child that might be his, who he could never be close to or acknowledge. 

Their eyes met and a little flicker of empathy passed between them. 

"You're right, it does," Athos said softly. "As I have just discovered, to my cost." 

Aramis put his hand on top of his friend's: a light, comforting touch. 

"I know that finding yourself suddenly and violently back into a past you had good reasons to leave behind is neither pleasant or painless and I wish with all my heart it hadn't happened the way it did. But sometimes something positive can come out of such things. At least you've had an opportunity to leave affairs in Pinon properly sorted. There must be some satisfaction in knowing you've done right by the villagers." 

Aramis's gaze was fixed on Athos. Those dark eyes were always at their most beautiful when filled with genuine concern, the nobleman thought. He let out a sigh. 

"It's something I should have attended to a long time ago." 

"I can understand why having to deal with it would have been anathema to you. But they're good people and you've settled things properly for them. So maybe when you're trying to look forward instead of back , there's one aspect of your past you can be at peace with." 

"I would like to think so," Athos said. He had to admit to himself that he did feel somewhat lighter of heart on leaving Pinon. He had found a workable resolution to fulfilling his ancestral responsibilities. "Your glass is always half full, isn't it?" he added, with an affectionate look at Aramis. 

"Metaphorically-most of the time. In reality," Aramis gave a flash of that impish grin that regularly melted hearts all over Paris, "only if Porthos does not pick it up by mistake, in which case it empties very quickly!" 

This made Athos smile in return. No-one else had the quite the same power as Aramis to lift his spirits. There might not be magic in the medical bag, but Aramis had his own form of healing sorcery that could work as effectively as any of the cures contained within. A pleasant little buzz of camaraderie filled the air between them. Although reluctant to break it, Athos knew they needed to return to the others, "We had best get back. Else our supper disappears!" 

"And d'Artagnan is on his second helping before we are on our first!" Aramis agreed with another flash of that smile. They stood up ad began to walk back towards the camp together. 

"Oh, by the way, I shall be requiring your assistance when we get back to Paris," Aramis said conversationally. "There was an Incident." 

Athos quirked a curious eyebrow at his friend. 

"Earlier on the day it became evident you were missing, I couldn't find my sash. I had a memory of leaving it at the bathhouse the night before. But it wasn't there. I searched high and low, while our two mutual friends made sympathetic noises and disavowed all knowledge of its whereabouts. Eventually I found it. In the stables. Draped round Aurora's neck, like a scarf." 

"Oh." The image of the sash decorating Aramis's horse filled Athos with quiet amusement. "I'm sure she looked very fetching. And let me guess. You turned around and there were the two miscreants. "

"Yes, leaning against the wall, doubled up with laughter." 

"And you require retribution?" 

"Perceptive as ever, That is why I have need of your devious mind." 

"Devious?" Athos invoked his best quelling stare, but they both knew he was teasing. 

"Don’t give me the Look. Let me phrase it differently." Aramis offered his friend a shamelessly charming smile. "Your cunningly strategic mind?" 

"Better." A gleam of amusement appeared in Athos's eyes. "Better still if we tackle your dilemma over a couple of good glasses of red in Paris tomorrow night?" 

"To lubricate our thought processes?" Aramis chuckled, "You're on! I'm sure you agree I cannot let this go unchallenged, I cannot allow our newest recruit to believe Porthos could best me in pulling off a prank!"  
"Quite! I have no doubt between the two of us we can come up with a suitable riposte." Just before they were about to slip through a gap in the trees leading to the campsite, Athos laid a restraining hand on Aramis's arm. "By the way, that red will be on me." It was an unspoken acknowledgement of his gratitude for some light hearted distraction after the turbulence of the last few days. 

"Deal!" Aramis said, a tingling warmth spreading through his being as he clapped his hand on Aramis's shoulder and they made their way side by side towards the welcoming glow of the campfire.  
@@@ @@@@ @@@ @@@


	3. Chapter 3

The evening meal was being dished out by the time Aramis and Athos returned to the camp. The ebb and flow of fireside baneter went on around Athos as he found a seat for himself. The mood was warm and easy and it felt good to be back in the circle of brotherhood. 

"By the way," Porthos said as he handed the last of the plates of stew to Athos. "I got word about a new place coming up for rent the other day. I was going to mention it but then Athos pulled his vanishing act. It's in that little square just across the way from the Fox. Apparently the draper over there had an annexe added on when his daughter got married. The husband's got a job with one of the merchant fleets and the couple will be away for a few years so they're looking to let it out in the meantime. It's clean and well kept up and it's got a living area and two good-sized bedrooms. As a share, it's a good price. Senior musketeers are just the kind of tenants they'd consider. The landlady of the Fox asked mine if she knew of anyone who was on looking." 

Porthos had been lodging at a room above an inn for some years. He was on good terms with his landlady, who kept his rent reasonable . In exchange when he was on hand he was happy to sort out the odd bit of trouble that might erupt with barroom brawls and so forth. 

"I didn’t think you'd consider moving, Porthos," Athos commented, knowing his friend had been well settled in his tavern. "Are you looking for someone to share with?" He glanced over at d'Artagnan, who had recently moved into the garrison after his break with Constance. 

"I'm fine where I am," Porthos told him. "I've got no reason to shift. I've got good grub and a good rent." He turned to look at Aramis, who was seated beside him, then across at Athos. "I was thinking of you two." 

He saw the look of surprise that crossed both his friend's faces. 

"'Mis, you were complaining to me just the other day that your rent's going up again and you might have to think about moving back into garrison. And Athos, that place of yours is pretty basic for what you pay for it." 

"It's adequate enough," Athos murmured. When he'd first gone looking for a room away from the garrison all he had cared about was having somewhere private to lay his head. Comfort had been almost immaterial. In the aftermath of the events that had led him to abandon his former life, it wasn't something he felt he deserved. 

"Yeah, adequate," Porthos agreed. "But you could do better for your money. So could you, 'Mis. We all know that most of the places near the garrison charge over the odds. There's another reason I think it'd be a good idea. Athos, when you went missing, we didn't have a clue where you were and it took us ages to get on your trail. Now, I know you were taken by people who didn't mean you any harm, but we've all made enemies over the years, and who's to say the same thing couldn't happen again? To any of us? There are probably a few pissed-off husbands up there who'd like to tan your hide," he added, throwing a salutary look at Aramis. "All I'm saying is, if you shared, you could keep an eye out for each other." 

Athos's mind went into a bit of a whirl. So used to his solitary habits, this sort of arrangement was not something he'd ever considered . And yet...and yet...An intriguing prospect. To be closer to Aramis. Would the other even give it credence? As he tried to process the idea, and not wishing to appear weak, he fell back on his customary coolness and declared, "I am well able to look after myself. 

Aramis had known in an instant that he would say yes to the plan Porthos had proposed. He instinctively it could be a good thing for both of them. The chance to be closer to Athos on a daily basis felt like a gift. But would the nobleman's pride veto the idea before it even got off the ground? 

"I know you can." Porthos looked directly at the Athos. His eyes then swivelled to Aramis. " And so can you. Neither of you needs a nursemaid. What I'm saying is, if you shared, keeping a watch out for each other would be a bonus." 

Aramis let out the breath he'd been holding inwardly. Well played, Porthos, he thought. He knew that sometimes it didn't make much to make Athos's barriers go up. What this required was a little delicate footwork. 

"Well, I for one, am not a nursemaid," he declared in a lightly humorous tone as he looked across at Athos. "I don't own one of those frilly apron things and I don't imagine you do either?" 

The corner of Athos's mouth quirked slightly; he couldn;'t help but respond to that twinkle in Aramis's eyes. 

"Not the last time I looked," he said drily. 

"I just don't think I could bring off the look. Not with the pauldron and weapons belt." He rolled his eyes in a theatrical manner. "It's so not me." This made everyone smile. "Seriously though," he said to Athos once the amusement died down, "I have been given notice of my rent going up next month and was thinking of looking for something else. This idea of Porthos has some merit." 

"It's a damn good idea, if you ask me." Treville's voice carried across from the other side of the campfire circle. "No offence, Athos, but that place of yours is pretty basic." The others saw Athos's gaze fix on their former Captain, who continued in his direct manner. "This new place is a minute or so's further walk from the garrison but the area's decent, and you both get better security and value for your money." 

Porthos and Aramis exchanged hopeful glances. They both knew Athos set a lot of store by Treville's opinion. 

Athos was silent for a moment as he finished chewing a mouthful of his stew. Then he tilted his head slightly towards Aramis. "Well, it could do no harm to have a look at this place. Perhaps tomorrow night?" 

Trying not to let too much of his inner joy show on his face, Aramis said, "Over dinner at the Fox, maybe?" 

"And a few good reds," Athos replied and they exchanged little smiles, recalling their former discussion about revenge strategies. 

"Good!" Porthos declared. "The sooner the better. I was told they would hold off for a few days before they offered it to anyone else. I can send a message through my landlady when we're back saying you'd like to view it." 

"Thank you, Porthos," Athos said graciously. "And for thinking about us." 

Up to now d'Artagnan had sat silently eating his meal, watching and listening as the discussion about prospective new lodgings went on around him. He had been particularly upset about the sudden disappearance of his mentor and like the rest of his friends, was grieved of late to see the effect that having Milady installed as the King's mistress had had on Athos. There had been a period of relative tranquility during the few months she was off the scene. Athos had been drinking less and not so inclined to dark moods. Now she was back and the regular sightings of her during their duty at the Louvre must be like salt in an open wound. 

Perhaps this new arrangement, with Aramis's company to cheer and distract Athos would have a beneficial effect, and not just for Athos. The Gascon knew there had been something troubling Aramis these past few months, though he would never discuss it. Despite this, the marksman had made every effort to offer support and cheer to d'Artagnan after his break with Constance. The Gascon was hugely appreciative of it. He thought their sharing of a lodging would be a good thing for them both. Time to add his own small contribution.

"Having the Fox nearby is a good reason for taking those rooms," he commented. "The ale's decent, and the food's excellent." 

The moment the words were out of his mouth he knew he'd set himself up. The others often ribbed him about his healthy appetite. 

Porthos threw him a grin and a teasing wink. "Priorities, eh, pup?" 

Aramis also smiled as he observed the Gascon's plate which was almost empty, while the others had still not completed their portions. "Seconds, d'Artagnan?" 

"A bit more, please?" he said passing over his plate a little sheepishly under the amused gaze of his brothers. Aramis handed it on to Treville who added more stew and asked if anyone else wanted a top up. Porthos took a small portion. 

"Eating's a survival skill!" d'Artagnan declared laughingly as he took possession of his plate again. 

Athos threw his protégé a drily amused but unmistakably affectionate look "Well, you are certainly surviving!" This drew smiles all round and they ate in companionable silence for a while. The rest of the group were glad to have Athos back with them, looking relaxed and comfortable in their company. 

"D'Artagnan is right about the Fox, though," Porthos said after a moment. "Food is good, and it's a point in the favour of these new rooms. And y'know," he looked across at Athos, "Aramis isn't bad to share with. He's quite well house-trained!" 

"Oh, charming!" Aramis snorted, nudging his friend in the ribs with his elbow. "I'm better house-trained than you! The winter we shared, you snored like a ox. The walls shook with it." 

"Oh, that's nice! Wasn't my fault I had that stinking cold for months. Or that the walls were thin as paper. You picked the place. But you," Porthos said with a retaliatory jab of his elbow against Aramis's arm, "were too probably too busy looking at the landlady's daughter to notice!" 

"Hey, you great oaf! Watch my stew!" Aramis protested as his plate wobbled dangerously. 

"Oaf? Charming--I don't think..." 

Athos watched with quiet amusement as his two friends conducted their play-fight. He guessed it was partly for his benefit: Porthos's way of reminding him of the time it was he who had suggested a change in rooming arrangements. It had been in the aftermath of the massacre of Savoy. Concerned about Aramis's state of mind, Athos had suggested that the two friends move out of the garrison for the first time. Lower in rank back then, their pay had only ran to the most basic of accomodation. Despite the various tribulations now being recounted, over time, it had had the desired effect of distracting Aramis and beginning to lift him out of his despond 

"...Then there were the cockroaches..." 

"Oh yes. You never fail to bring up the cockroaches..." 

"They were bloody huge! If I coulda saddled one, I wouldn't have needed a horse..." 

"Do they always go on like this?" Treville shook his head and looked across at the other two. 

"Quite often," d'Artagnan said conversationally. "It can go on for a while." 

"Till they run out of breath, sometimes," Athos observed laconically. He strongly suspected that Porthos was staging his own form of distraction: a bit of levity after the stress of the past few days. 

As the argument rattled on, Treville asked , "How do you stop them?" 

"Sometimes we throw something at them," d'Artagnan said smilingly. "As a last resort, Athos shouts at them." 

Treville quirked an eyebrow at Athos, who answered him with a look that said, "Be my guest." 

"...Working my backside off, charming second helpings out of the landlady. And when my back was turned, mine disappeared!" 

"Well, you should have paid less attention to Ann-Marie's cleavage. Eating is a survival skill! I needed my strength to escape the cockroaches..." 

The voice that for years had made many a musketeer quake in their boots cut across the debate. 

"Porthos, Aramis! Enough!" 

So deeply ingrained was the habit of obeying that tone that both men stopped and looked at their former commander. 

"Yes, Captain!" 

"Sorry, Captain!" 

"Better," Treville said approvingly. "I've been in a battle half the day. Don't want to listen to another one while I'm having my supper!" 

As the group returned to eating their stew, Athos glanced up at Porthos. The ghost of a quicksilver grin touched the big man's lips before he dedicated himself to renewed vigour to consuming what was left of his stew. 

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Athos and Aramis knew they needed to talk privately about the changes that had been discussed over the meal. Their chance came when the group, as usual, divided up the jobs that needed doing before they could settle for the night. With a glance of acknowledgement passing between them, they volunteered to see to the supper dishes. They made their way to the small stream nearby and worked together with the ease of long practice; Aramis cleaning the plates under the running water, passing them to Athos to dry. 

"I can see that this move could have benefits for both of us," Aramis commented. "But I know you're used to-- and value-- your privacy. If these rooms turn out to be suitable, I'd respect that. If you needed some extra space, you'd only need to tell me." 

"To be fair, you are also used to your own space. I would also respect that," Aramis assured him. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Naturally, if you wished to entertain a lady friend--" 

Aramis cut him off with a short laugh. "That part of my social life has been a little lacklustre of late. In any case, I haven't made a habit of conducting it where I live. I've found it makes life simpler. So I am not about to start doing so now." 

Years of practice helped him to deliver this statement with a nonchalant manner, but his private thoughts were different. 

If you but wanted me the way I want you, he thought, with a little twinge in his heart, I would not be looking elsewhere for "entertainment"… 

Athos let out an inward sigh of relief. He had thought this would probably be the case. He could live with the fact that Aramis's feelings towards him were brotherly, had done so for years, but it would not have been pleasant to be on one side of a bedroom wall knowing that on the other side, Aramis might be making love to some woman. 

"Well, if you are prepared to put up with my moods, I think this could work out of well for us." 

"Glad to hear it. I think so too. And you know that if I get too garrulous, all you need to do is tell me to shut up!" Aramis quipped. The comment brought a certain glint of affection and amusement into Athos's eyes that made the other man's heart beat faster. Something about their closeness tonight, Athos's slight lowering of barriers and his acquiescence to this plan made Aramis just a tad bolder in declaring what he felt. "Spending time with you, my friend, will never be a hardship for me." 

There was a quicksilver quality in Aramis's voice that allowed him to convey his meaning in an unaffected yet sincere manner. Athos had always found it pleasing to listen to, especially when his friend occasionally read him his own poetry. He found himself responding with equal honesty. 

"Likewise for me. You make it very easy." Their gazes held; the connection between them felt warm and fluid. 

"Well, then, we must hope these rooms live up to their promise," Aramis, handing the last of the plates to Athos. "I expect there's a small kitchen. I don't mind doing the odd bit of cooking for us." 

Athos's expression brightened slightly. Aramis's knowledge of herbs and foraging had aided in the improvement of his culinary skills over the years. 

"Ah!" He looked at the small pile of dishes at his side. "So that's why you have me practicing this!" 

"Division of labour!" Aramis chuckled as he leant over to rinse the spoons in the stream. He felt almost light-headed with joy, and very grateful to Porthos for his suggestion, also to Treville, whose opinion Athos valued so much, for adding his persuasion. 

He thought:" Captain, I could kiss you!" The incongruity of the idea made a gurgle of laughter rise in his chest; his body shaking slightly as he tried to suppress it  
"Aramis?" 

"Oh, just..nearly overbalanced there," Aramis said with a little smile at his friend. "Thought I was going to take a bath." Overbalanced indeed, he thought as he handed the spoons to Athos to dry. He still felt bubbly and warm inside. "No offence, Captain," he murmured inwardly, "but I'd rather kiss Athos." 

Especially the way he looked right now: the moonlight shining down on his handsome features, a tint of auburn touching the edges of the dark hair. 

Sufficient unto the day, he thought and passed the last utensil to Athos. "All done." 

"All done," his friend agreed as he finished drying the spoons. They collected up the other things and climbed to their feet. Having been kneeling for a while, they were glad to stretch their backs. The moon came out fully from behind its cloud cover. Its fullness and silvery allure drew their eyes. 

"Glorious, isn't it?" Aramis commented. "They call it a hay moon in July, don't they?" 

"Or a thunder moon, sometimes," Athos added, remembering the country tradition. He looked relaxed and thoughtful, caught up in the beauty of the natural phenomenon. "There's to be an eclipse next month." 

"Yes, I know. Should be quite a thing to see. Did you see the roster diary? Seems some astronomer has invited the King to see it at his observatory. Escort will be needed, of course." 

Athos nodded. "The word is the King is fascinated by the works of Galileo." 

"Well," Aramis said, his tone light but not without a slightly acerbic quality, "it is heartening to know that the King is not solely focused on non-cerebral matters and that he still gives some mind to intellectual pursuits." 

The reference to Milady was implicit and Athos's little sideways glance acknowledged it. "The King's attention span is often quite short," he observed drily. 

"Like a child's," Aramis agreed. "Sometimes he picks things up like playthings and puts them down just as quickly." He hoped the idea that their monarch's capricious nature might cause his interest in Milady may wane soon could be of some comfort to Athos. "That may well be the case here. She is bound to make a slip sooner or later." 

"I do but hope," Athos said, with the hint of a sigh. Somehow, at the moment, the thought of Milady and all the pain associated with her felt like a thousand miles away. What mattered was the way Aramis was looking at him, his warmth and concern a palpable force. The thought of having him just that little bit nearer, every day, was both calming and cheering. "Time will tell. The rosters aren't done yet," he went on to add. "What's the betting that with our luck, we'll pull the escort duty." 

"Without a doubt," Aramis agreed. "With our luck we will be patrolling outside the observatory, not inside, while all the interesting stuff is going on." 

"We'd at least be spared watching Rochefort fawning over the King." They exchanged amused looks as they began to make their way back towards the camp. "I can foresee Monsieur Galileo coming into conflict with the Holy See in the next few years, if he maintains his pro-Copernican stance," Athos commented. "I wonder if the King will still espouse his ideas then!" He knew that Athos had read 'The Starry Messenger' and other works of the Italian astronomer. 

"That is possible, Aramis admitted. "Mother Church can be rather literal in her interpretation of doctrine on occasion." 

Although Aramis's religious beliefs were sincere, his sharp mind wasn't closed to new ideas. It added an extra frisson to their frequent discussions of advances in the natural sciences and intellectual matters. 

When they arrived back at the edge of the clearing they both paused, watching their friends as they went about their various tasks. They absorbed the sweetly scented night air, the little chirrups of insects and other forest creatures, the whispering rustle of leaves on the welcome cooling breeze, which also carried the hint of laughter in the words being bandied between Porthos and d'Artagnan. 

Aramis murmured, "When we passed through here last winter, I never appreciated how beautiful your homeland is." 

"I think I'd almost forgotten it myself," Athos said reflectively. "But "home" as a concept, isn't always about location." He looked across at his brothers working together in quiet harmony: Treville seeing to the horses, the other two putting out the bedrolls, the Gascon raising a hand in greeting as they caught his eye. "Sometimes, it's a state of mind." 

The returning pair shared a look of complete understanding and moved as one back towards the company of their friends. 

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-


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have nearly finished the story, just need to type up the last bits tomorrow. But this may be the first bit of muskies fic published in 2016 from the UK side of the pond!
> 
> A happy New Year to all the writers, readers and especially those who have made me feel part of a fandom writing family after years away. Arathos forever!

Porthos watched as Athos and Aramis headed off together to clean the supper dishes. D'Artagnan had also disappeared briefly to relieve himself before the company settled down for the night. Normally Porthos would have gone to chat to Treville who was a few yards away tending to the horses but things between them being awkward at present, he didn't see the point of exacerbating a bad situation. It hurt Porthos deeply to feel estranged from the man he'd looked up to for guidance, almost like a father, since joining the regiment but he knew he couldn't afford to give in while Treville refused to disclose the secret he was harbouring. 

He seated himself again on one of the fallen logs they'd gathered around the fire. He didn't really mind having a few moments alone to reflect on recent events. It had been an eventful few days. Athos's quiet strength and authority had always held the group together and his disappearance had rattled them all. It was impossible to imagine how they'd get on without his cool perspective and ability to lead and inspire. Although Athos might chose to project a persona that acted as a mask, he had never been able to conceal his honour, courage, compassion and capacity for great loyalty to people he cared for. Porthos had always considered himself privileged to be counted among the few people that Athos classed as a real friend. When Athos's true background had emerged, the dark man had become even more appreciative of the way the other had always treated him. So many of Athos's aristocratic peers would have looked on Porthos's mixed heritage with disdain, considering it beneath them to get to know the man, rather than the half-caste. Added to the fact that Athos had taken risks so that Bonnaire was brought to justice and would not make a profit out of slavery. It said much about who he was: one of the finest men Porthos had ever known. 

The visit to Pinon had been illuminating in many ways. While they were preparing for the battle, the people of the village had talked about the past of the man who used to be their liege-lord. They spoke of how like his father before him, he had treated his tenants fairly and kindly. Although he'd maintained his aristocratic reserve, a picture emerged of a happier, more relaxed young man, whose dry sense of humour and sweetness of nature shone through. Despite the tragedy of his father's early death, he had shouldered the burden of running the estate and supporting his younger brother with equanimity. Few people trusted the woman who had appeared out of the blue and seemed to bewitch him. Rumours persisted that his mother, whose health was already failing, was not happy about her beloved older son marrying outside his own class. The lord's new wife was certainly a stunner, who looked well on his arm as he proudly paraded her around his lands. She could affect a veneer of sweetness and cultivation but the local people detected a falseness about her as she went about her duties as lady of the manor, visiting the sick or the poor. If anyone had voiced any doubts about her, it was unlikely their lord would have taken any notice; he seemed completely besotted with her. But Lord Olivier's idyll was not to last more than two years. Firstly the death of the dowager comtesse, then a failed pregnancy. It had culminated in the murder of Lord Thomas by his sister-in-law, and the events that followed. Their lord's pain and guilt had driven him to flee from the life he'd been born into. 

That bitch had a lot to answer for, Porthos thought grimly. She was still casting a blight over Athos's life and the ripple effects of her actions even continued to affect the people of Pinon, who'd been forced to bring back their lord in their hour of need. While not having enjoyed watching the effects that beng dragged back home had had on his friend, Porthos considered that at the end of the day, it might have been no bad thing. It had forced Athos to face up to a part of his past and maybe that was a way towards lifting the cloud of recrimination that had dogged him all these years. Sometimes driving him into the bottle for a solace that would always prove elusive. Athos deserved so much better. Going back to Pinon was at least a start. Maybe, with a bit of help, it was time for his friend's soul to start to heal and open himself up to the possibility of loving again. Because love of the kind Athos needed had been standing right beside him for years. 

You think I don't know, don't you? he thought with an amused shake of his head. His two best friends believed they'd kept their deepest, most secret feelings hidden. They probably have, to everyone else, Porthos conceded. But for five years Aramis and Athos had been his family. He'd rode with them, fought with them, laughed and sometimes cried with them; got to know them as no-one else did. 

Aramis, on the surface the more open of the two, still had parts of himself he kept private, even from Porthos. Although wearing the costume of the devil-may-care ladies man with panache, Aramis had yet to find lasting happiness with any woman. Porthos thought he knew the reason for that: because his friend's heart had already been given elsewhere. But it was a love that he thought would never come to fruition because of the emotional damage Athos had sustained at Milady's hand. It was Porthos's intuition that Aramis's reticence at revealing his feelings had less to do with his religious convictions about love between men, and more of the fear of losing Athos's friendship and trust, if he got it wrong. After all, the major obsession of Athos's life had been with a woman, and one that he did not seem to be fully over. 

As for Athos, although he hid himself well, Porthos had sometimes caught a flash of longing in his friend's eyes when he looked at Aramis that spoke of more than feelings of brotherhood, But bruised as his heart was, his caution was understandable. And like Aramis, he would run the risk of messing up the friendship that was one of the main bulwarks of his life. 

Growing up in the Court, there wasn't much that shocked or surprised Porthos. Love between two men was only one of a number of outre practices he'd been aware of. But it was a dangerous thing to undertake in a world that regarded it as a sin and a crime. Porthos's own inclination had always been towards the fair sex but he loved these men, and the Gascon who'd recently joined them, more than he did anyone else. They were his family, not of blood but of choice and he wanted to see them happy. He'd watched the way Athos and Aramis gravitated towards each other. The good education Aramis had received in preparation for entering the church meant he could hold his own in their discussions on intellectual matters or of their mutual love of literature. Athos's dry wit bounced off Aramis's drollness. Aramis's warmth cheered Athos, and Athos's gravity helped centre Aramis, with his more impetuous nature. There were times Porthos had simply wanted to bang their heads together and tell them to get on with loving each other. But he'd kept his silence, fearful of ruining something that would be strong once it was fully formed but might be fragile in its inception. A healing heart was a thing to be treated with care. 

There'd been a few months of peace, after the Cardinal had discarded Milady and Athos banished her from Paris, when the nobleman had seemed more at ease with himself; less inclined to drink heavily and not so likely to brood. But then, like the slick opportunist that she was, Milady had managed to turn around her fortunes and place herself in an unassailable position where she could also cause Athos maximum irritation: as the King's mistress. They'd all seen the flickers of pain and humiliation in their friends eyes as he watched the woman who'd once been his wife saunter past them on his Majesty's arm. 

Porthos was not fooled for one second by the airs and graces she affected. He'd seen plenty of her kind in the Court. You could take the cat out of the alley, he reflected, but not the alley out of the cat. Admittedly, she was wily and spirited, well schooled by Sazarin, but basically, just another girl on the make. And Athos deserved so much better. Well, Mi-so-called- Lady, he thought determinedly, you think you always have the upper hand but Athos has people who care about him and we are not going to let you win. 

It had seemed almost like fate when Porthos had heard about the lodgings becoming available near the Fox. The possibilities for Athos and Aramis had struck him immediately. It offered a chance to get them closer together, so that maybe the barriers they hidden behind for the past few year could start to come down. Spending more time in each other's company could only be a good thing, Porthos thought. Aramis's positivity would help distract Athos from the situation with Milady, and maybe stop him reaching for the bottle so much, and also stop Aramis spending so much time in pointless pursuit of women. The timing, with Athos having just faced up to part of his past, seemed opportune. His friends' reaction to the suggestion also made him feel hopeful. It was amazing what a little gentle nudge could do now and then. 

You boys are lucky to have me looking after you, he thought. Maybe I'm your fairy godmother. The humour of this notion tickled him. Or--more likely--your hairy godfather! This made him chuckle out loud and that was how d'Artagnan found him when he returned: sitting on his log, his big frame shaking with laughter. 

"Porthos--what's so funny?" 

"Oh--just... something!" Porthos said, laughing all the harder. 

"Something? What's that supposed to mean, you lunatic?" The Gascon gave him a puzzled grin. 

"Just..something!" Still chortling, Porthos climbed to his feet and affectionately ruffled the younger man's hair. "Maybe I'll tell you when you're old enough, Pup!" he told the other as he caught Athos and Aramis's return out of the corner of his eye. He still laughing as the mystified but smiling Gascon followed him over towards the camp so they could make their preparations to settle for the night. 

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	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter but there is a little postcript, involving d'Artagnan, which I will hopefully post tomorrow

Although tired after the day's exertions, Aramis had slept fitfully and had found himself waking for the second time that night. He opened his eyes and had a quick look around the camp. All was quiet. The moon was a little lower in the sky but still cast enough light for him to be able to easily see his sleeping comrades: Athos on his left, Porthos and Treville on his right on the other side of the campfire. D'Artagnan's empty bedroll indicated it must be the Gascon's turn on watch and that he was probably doing a perimeter check. Aramis just lay for a moment, just listening to the gentle sounds of the summer night: the whisper of the leaves and the distant hooting of an owl. He knew he'd be unlikely to sleep for a while and felt his head turning to look at Athos's slumbering form. 

Aramis knew that one of the reasons for his restlessness was the prospect of sharing lodgings with his friend. There had been a little buzz of happiness thrumming through him since Athos's provisional agreement to the arrangement. And God alone knew, there'd been little enough reason for either of them to know any real peace or happiness this past year. Athos had had to deal with Milady resurfacing in his life, with her schemes for revenge, then her reinvention of herself as the King's mistress. Aramis was trying to live with the consequences of his actions in sleeping with the Queen. an act that he ultimately knew was wrong, no matter how right it had felt that night in the convent. And now he might have a child he was unlikely ever to be close to: something that weighed heavily on his soul. 

Athos stirred slightly in his sleep, and Aramis rolled onto his side so he had a better view of his friend's face, the moonlight highlighting the nobleman's handsome features. Aramis sighed. How he wished he could help Athos maintain the elusive peace brought by sleep into his waking hours. Athos's pull on Aramis's heart went back to the start. The first time he'd seen him, engaged in sword play on the other side of the practice court. Something in the grace of Athos's movements as he wielded the sword with supreme skill, like it was an extension of himself, then the intelligence in the hazel eyes that lifted to meet Aramis's once he became aware of being watched. 

Always curious sexually, Aramis had had a few minor fumbles with other boys before he became involved with Isabelle. After he'd joined the army, he had sometimes felt stirrings towards other men, but not strong enough to be worth the risk. The closest he'd come to wanting to extend a friendship into a physical relationship was with Marsac, but something had held him back. But then there was Athos. who fascinated and attracted him like no other. Early in the friendship, when he'd realised where his feelings were leading him, Aramis had tested himsef by seeking out a male courtesan. It was a means of seeing if this was merely a whim; an itch that needed scratching. He had found the act physically pleasurable and exciting but it had left him feeling empty and still yearning for Athos. But he had also come to terms with the reality that Athos had been deeply wounded by a woman, one who he was still obsessed with. So that it was unlikely he'd ever attain his own heart's desire. However, it hadn't stopped Aramis striving to cultivate and strengthen the friendship. Brotherhood with Athos was not something merely to settle for, but to prize. Porthos, with his great warmth and openness, made it easy. He had always felt like true family to Aramis, despite the differences in race and background. With Athos it could sometimes be hard work but it was worth the effort. Earning Athos's respect and trust, in spite of his own flaws, made Aramis feel like a better man. It became essential to him. 

He'd made a decision that it would be easier and safer to stay with women. Many of his relationship had been short-term. It was less demanding emotionally and it often suited him to keep things that way. He had not felt the same kind of love he'd known with Isabelle with any other woman and part of him acknowledged that he hadn't sought it. Leading a soldier's life, it was easier to keep things casual; go with women who wanted a little mutual pleasure and entertainment. Now and again someone a little more special would come along, like Adele, but even then he admitted that part of the lure had been the risk: putting something over on the man who effectively ran the country. And then there was the Queen. His moment of madness, in the aftermath of the devastation over Isabelle's death. In some ways, he thought, the most unattainable woman of them all. He rolled on his back, looking up at the stars with a rueful shake of his head. 

And now there was Marguerite. He knew that he really ought to end things with her. She was attractive, and good company, but he knew he probably wouldn't have initiated it if not for the chance to sometimes to be a little closer to the boy who might be his son. He did like her, but knew in his heart that it really wasn't all that different from other affairs he'd had with women who were just looking for a little dalliance and amusement. In any case, it probably wouldn't be long until she fulfilled her purpose in coming to court: to wed some highborn nobleman. And he was aware of the danger posed by being in proximity with the Dauphin; the suspicions it might arouse. He knew that there was a part of him, since Savoy, that sometimes felt the need to take risks, push the envelope to its limits. 

Athos shifted his head slightly and emitted what sounded like a little moan. Aramis turned his head immediately but Athos seemed to settle again. The only thing that he was certain of, Aramis thought as he rolled onto his side so he could keep a better eye on his friend, was that this was the one love that did not change. He felt like it was part of him, rooted deeply within him now and he didn't want it to change. He knew that Milady' presence as the King's mistress was a painful thorn in his friend's side. And while he could not remove that thorn, with this opportunity to share lodgings, he could at least offer his own company as some sort of distraction. And maybe, with closer proximity, maybe--treading carefully of course--he could gently persuade Athos to eat a little better, drink a little less-- 

Athos let out another moan. This time it was deeper and sounded more distressed, and his head began to thrash from side to side, as though in fierce denial. 

"No! Damn you, no..." Athos's eyes remained closed, his eyeballs twitching rapidly. Tensing, Aramis waited for a moment to see if Athos would settle but he didn't. His body continued to shift restlessly, as though he were struggling against restraints; his voice an angry growl. "God damn you, you brought me back!" 

Aramis had plenty of experience with dreams as vivid as waking. All too often he had found himsef back in that forest near the border with Savoy, the blood of his brothers scarlet against the white of the snow. He quickly pushed back his blanket and crossed the short distance to Athos, kneeling beside his friend. 

Athos's head continued to toss from side to side in an agitated manner and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. 

"If you are going to kill me, at least give me the courtesy of an explanation!" 

"Athos!" Aramis squeezed the other man's shoulder gently and repeated with concern, "Athos!" 

The nobleman's eyes shot open and he looked up at Aramis for a moment in blurry confusion. "Aramis..?" 

"I'm here." Aramis smiled reassuringly. "You were dreaming, my friend." 

Athos blinked; the hazel eyes not quite focused after the abrupt awakening. "Thought I was back in Pinon...." he murmured. "Alone..."  
Aramis knew Athos had been drugged during the abduction and could imagine that his first few moments of disorientated returning to consciousness would not have been pleasant. 

"Never alone," he responded, taking one of Athos's hands in his own and squeezing it reassuringly. "We're always here. Close by, or if not, not far behind. We always will be. All for one." 

Athos nodded and returned the pressure of the other's fingers. "I know. Sorry if I woke you." 

"You didn't; I was already awake," Aramis said, lips quirking slightly. "Don't apologise. Bad dreams aren’t something we can control," he added, smile becoming a little twisted. 

There was a flicker of understanding in Athos's eyes. He knew Aramis was referencing his nightmares over Savoy. Just for a moment, he felt the repeated pressure of Athos's fingers against his, and returned it. Athos turned his head slightly so he could better survey the other side of the camp, where their friends slumbered on. 

"D'Artagnan on watch?" 

"Yes. All seems quiet," Aramis said soothingly. "Though I do have an eye out for marauding badgers." His eyes twinkled teasingly. 

There was a quirk at the corner of Athos's mouth, acknowledging the reference to their earlier banter. Aramis was glad to see the smile, which reached Athos's eyes, and the slightly more relaxed expression on his friend's face. A frisson of understanding and shared humour reverberated in the air between them. 

"Why don't you try and rest?" Aramis said gently. "We have a full day tomorrow." Tempting though it was to continue talking, he knew it would probably spoil any chances of Athos sleeping again. 

"You should, also," Athos admonished. 

"I'm awake now. Might as well take next watch." 

"You medics never take your own advice," Athos commented with a twinge of his customary dryness. 

Aramis smiled back at him, releasing his friend's hand with a farewell squeeze. "That's our prerogative. Now try and sleep. I shall stay here." The hazel eyes looked up into his with a trusting and peaceful expression. And simply because it felt like the right thing to do, Aramis found himself reaching up and pushing the hair away from Athos's forehead, then brushing over his cheek for a moment. "Until d'Artagnan returns. On badger watch," he added, the teasing smile mirrored in his eyes. 

Athos's eyes widened slighty at the tender gesture but there was no sign of displeasure there and they twinkled appreciatively at Aramis's jest. 

"As long as you wake me for my turn on watch?" 

"I will," Aramis promised, and after a moment, saw Athos's eyes close. "That's it..." he found himself whispering. "You can rest easily. We'll always be here for you. Always..." He continued watch Athos and at some point, became aware of the other's breathing falling into the deeper rhythms of sleep. And yet he felt no hurry to end his vigil. 

I could take such good care of you, he thought, drinking in the sight of Athos's peaceful face in the moonlight. If only you'd let me.... 

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	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who encouraged this little effort. It's appreciated. Give me a few weeks and the sequel should be taking shape.

"Aramis? Is Athos all right?"  
So absorbed had Aramis been in watching over Athos that he hadn't noticed d'Artagnan's return until he heard the Gascon's concerned voice. 

"He's fine." Aramis threw his younger companion a smile of greeting as d'Artagnan walked over. "He just had a bit of a bad dream. Flashback to the abduction, I think." 

"Not surprising," d'Artagnan said with sympathy, taking care to speak softly as he went down on one knee on the other side of the sleeping figure. "It was hard enough for him coming back from here the first time. " He sighed, looking down on the face of his mentor. "At least this time perhaps he can walk away with some closure." Their eyes met as they acknowledged their mutual concern for the man lying between them. 

"I think so. I hope so," Aramis said. 

"I'd like to think that one day, he could go back to Pinon. Not because he's been forced to, but because it's his choice," d'Artagnan commented with a wistful air. 

"Athos comes to things in his own time," Aramis said, looking down at their friend with a fond, knowing smile. "And I think that could take quite a while. But I too hope that one day, when he's ready, he'll go back." 

"We can only be grateful that he was taken by people who meant him no harm," d'Artagnan said. "And that we got him back. What the hell would we do without him?" 

"What indeed, little brother?" Aramis murmured as he continued to look down on Athos's face, his words just as heartfelt as the Gascon's. "What indeed?" 

"I can watch him if you want," d'Artagnan offered. 

Aramis lifted his gaze at last, flashing the Gascon a little smile. "Thank you, but I'm wide awake now. I may as well take the watch. I'll keep an eye on him a little longer, make sure he's properly asleep, then I'll do a patrol. You get yourself some rest." 

"All right, if you're sure," d'Artagnan said gratefully. He was tired and it had been a draining few days in more ways than one. 

"I'm sure." Indeed, Aramis looked quite settled there, kneeling beside Athos, an almost serene look in his eyes when they met d'Artagnan's. "Sleep well." 

"Just call me if you need me," d'Artagnan said, then went over to his bedroll, pulling a blanket over him. However, he didn't close his eyes immediately but turned his head slightly so he could continue to watch Athos and Aramis. 

Aramis had shifted his position slightly so he was sitting cross-legged, looking rather more comfortable as he continued his vigil over Athos. 

D'Artagnan was thinking back to the moment when he'd come back into the clearing, and the look he'd caught on Aramis's face as he'd gazed down at Athos. There was something so tender, so vulnerable in that look. Something that was undoubtedly love. But somehow, of a love that was not just brotherly. 

His mind reeled a little. It was an idea he had toyed with before, when trying to work out the relationships between the men who had taken him into their circle, but had dismissed. The evidence seemed to indicate that both men were orientated towards women. Although young, d'Artagnan knew that desires and emotions were not always straightforward. 

But that look. Was that really how Aramis felt about Athos? The marsksman, despite his surface openness, was sometimes just as much of a mystery as Athos. As for the nobleman himself--how did he feel? He had loved a woman obsessively. And yet... 

D'Artagnan had a feeling in his gut that he already knew the answer to that question. He let out a long slow breath. He could be totally wrong, of course. But if he was right, and desire ever became a reality, it was a difficult and dangerous course his friends would be embarking upon. And not only for the risks and consequences of discovery. This past year, in knowing Constance, he had learned something about both the joys and tribulations that came with real love. 

And yet...they could be so good for each other; help heal each other's inner wounds. And he made a promise there and then that he'd support them, protect them, help them in any way he could. Just as they'd supported, protected and helped him when they took him in as family. 

He determined to keep his eyes and ears open a little wider, watch how things developed, especially as the pair might be sharing lodgings. Suddenly he found himself smiling.  
Porthos, you sly dog! Is that what you were laughing about? You know, and you're trying to encourage them, by suggesting the house share! Well, of course, Porthos's instincts, like his own, would be to support, help, protect. 

His grin widened as he closed his eyes. I will watch and listen, he thought. And if things develop like I think they might, you and I will be having a word, my friend Porthos! And then we'll see if you still think I'm a naïve pup--or just as wise a dog as you! 

The smile was still on his lips as he found himself sliding into sleep. 

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